Thigh High
by slash-whump-addict
Summary: Sam has a thing for Dean in a thigh holster - based on a prompt (below) from the spnkink meme and written for SMPC comm on LJ. After Sam & Dean get back together during "The End" Dean tells Sam about all the stuff with 2014!Dean & the holster 2014!Dean was wearing. This turns Sam on and he pushes Dean for more details. Hot and dirty times follow!


**Thigh High**

Dean kept the Impala running while Sam dumped the 'borrowed' car he arrived in. Although he'd meant what he said, he and Sam _were_ better off together, Dean knew it wasn't going to be an easy ride from here on out. He knew that the next few hours would inevitably end up the way all their separations did - conversations would be stilted, alternating between passing the time shooting the shit to pretend everything was fine even though they both knew it wasn't; and bringing each other up to speed on the goings on during their time apart.

Dean did his best not to react as Sam told him all about Lindsey and her incessant question asking, her advances (which he no doubt played down for Dean's sake), their dinner 'date' and the shit storm that followed when the demon blood was forced on him. Dean wanted to ask if, out of loneliness, Sam had fucked her. It was none of his business, it's not like they were ever exclusive, but the thought of his brother with someone else still made Dean's skin crawl, even after all these years.

Sam listened as Dean told him all he could remember about the bizarro world that was 2014's Camp Chitaqua, the whole mess left in the wake of the Croatoan virus and Lucifer's actions since Sam had said yes. He of course, left out details of how cold and emotionless his future self had become, how he'd killed comrades in cold blood, and most importantly he'd omitted that future Dean had no apparent qualms about torturing people for information. As Dean had said to…himself, there was 'something very wrong' with that. Where his blood ran hot with jealousy over Sam maybe fucking some bar skank, it now turned cold at the thought of what he might become if things followed that path. Instead the older brother lightened the mood, finishing his monologue with, "I was even wearing a thigh holster. A _holster_, can you believe that shit, Sammy?" 

Sam was a combination of fidgety and tense in the passenger seat. Dean was all too familiar with this particular routine and it never failed to piss him off. It was like a well practised dance the brothers had perfected over the years - sooner or later Dean would tire of listening to Sam's deep sighs, his numerous intakes of breath before opening his mouth to speak, only to change his mind at the last minute. They'd go on like this, both knowing the lay of the land, Sam in effect playing his brother like a fiddle until Dean snapped. It was something they both needed - Sam handing over control of broaching the subject, before Dean giving it back and letting Sam get whatever-the-fuck-it-was-this-time off his chest.

"OK Sam, get it over with," Dean sighed around four hours later. Any other time he'd have been snippy, but now he was just too fucking tired.

Sam sighed yet again and turned his body towards Dean, "It's just...I don't know...with everything it seems..."

Dean gripped the wheel tighter and tried to stay calm. Sam had had hours to think through what he wanted to say and yet he was floundering. _This can't be good_, he thought. "Dude, just ask."

It was still light enough outside for Dean to see that Sam was... wait, what? "Are you _blushing_, Sammy?"

Sam tensed, his shoulders raised slightly and his eyes took on a definite deer in the headlights look. "What? No, I…it's…nevermind." he said, slumping back into the seat.

Losing patience fast, Dean quickly pulled the Impala over - the road was pretty much deserted and they hadn't seen another car for at least a couple of miles. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands and took a calming breath, "Sam, whatever it is, just say it. I've told you everything I can, what else can you possibly want to know?"

Sam turned to the window, winding it down halfway and breathing in the cool air. Slowly he turned to his brother, blush still firmly in place, and the puppy eyes came out in full force. He swallowed hard and Dean saw the familiar determined set of Sam's jaw – this was obviously something the younger man was uncomfortable with but was going to say, anyway. "Tell me how it," he cleared his throat and spoke with a little more conviction, "tell me how it looked on you."

Dean was confused and about to say so when his brother's large, warm hand settled over his thigh and starting stroking slowly. It had been a long time since they'd touched one another in any meaningful way, and they'd been intimate for enough years for Dean to know that Sam was going somewhere with this. "How what looked, Sammy?"

Sam traced two lines across Dean's thigh, dragging his finger as far between his brother's legs as their current position allowed. Despite the rest of his body being bone tired, Dean's dick certainly wasn't. It twitched in his jeans next to Sam's fingertips, and again when his little brother looked at him with lust blown eyes and spit slicked lips, "The holster Dean, how did it look? I want to know everything," he said breathlessly.

Dean's brain vaguely registered that as the older brother he should be teasing Sam mercilessly about this newly revealed fetish, but that thought was cut off when Sam's grip on his brother's thigh tightened as he palmed the bulge in his own jeans. Dean covered both of Sam's hands with his own, earning a moan from the younger man at the increased pressure on his dick.

Sam pulled his own hand away from his crotch to give his brother more access, a groan rumbling in his chest as Dean squeezed. Knowing that just the thought of his brother wearing a holster had Sam this hot and hard sent more blood rushing south, leaving Dean feeling a little dizzy. "Jesus, Sammy, you kinky little fucker."

"Bite me," Sam threw back without any heat whatsoever because he was too busy pulling at Dean's belt buckle. The angle was all wrong and he was getting nowhere so Dean took pity on him, undoing it and the button of his jeans himself with one hand, as the other gripped the back of Sam's neck firmly and pulled him in for a hot, messy kiss. It had been so long since they'd kissed and Dean lost himself in the taste of his brother and the hot slide of tongue against tongue. All too soon the heat of Sam's mouth was gone and Dean was about to complain when he felt his zipper being practically ripped apart.

"Eager much?" he quipped as Sam attempted to tug jeans and boxers down all at once, which was impossible in the space they had. Sam growled in annoyance before he unfolded himself and got out of the car and scrambled around to the driver's side. "What the fuck?" Dean yelled as Sam pulled him out of the car, slamming him up against the door and kissing him again. It was like Sam didn't know which part of Dean he wanted to touch most, his hands roamed everywhere, eventually settling on his brother's chest, thumbing perky nipples through the cotton t-shirt.

Sam was panting, flushed and looked drunk with lust. Dean would've been proud of himself for getting his brother worked up like this if he wasn't too busy letting out a manly squawk as Sam somehow manhandled him into the back seat and yanked Dean's jeans and boxers down so they were around his knees. Sam quickly shed his own before dropping to his knees outside the car, spreading Dean's legs and nosing at his right thigh. "God damn it, Dean, _tell me_, don't make me ask again."

"What? Tell you what?" Sam's answer was to lick two stripes across Dean's thigh, and then the older Winchester got it – Sam was imagining the holster and licking where the straps would be. "Holy shit!" Dean gasped as Sam bit down on the thigh muscle, groaning as he did it. The jolt of pain brought Dean back to the moment and he tried to recall how the holster had looked on him. "Right, OK, it was -" _just a holster_ obviously wasn't going to cut it for Sam, so he started again, "It was big, Sammy. Sturdy."

Sam lifted his head and somehow managed a bitchface, "Sturdy, Dean, really?" he said, obviously pissed off.

"Well it was!" Dean threw back, "it was black and had two straps, looked… kinda uncomfortable, actually."

"Uncomfortable?" Sam asked, and Dean was expecting another snarky comment so he jumped a little when Sam's fingers started tracing his thigh again, this time brushing his balls as he reached all the way between Dean's legs. "Uncomfortable as in," he paused and drew in a laboured breath, "tight?"

"Yeah, yeah kinda tight. All snug around my thigh, moving along with me every step of the way."

Sam moaned softly, his hot breath on Dean's thigh sending shivers through the older man. When Dean lifted his head to get a better look at his brother, he saw the unmistakeable movement in Sam's arm and shoulder – he was jerking himself off, and fast by the looks of it. "More," he moaned before licking over Dean's thigh again, his free hand teasing the head of Dean's cock, making the older man moan, too.

"I could feel it Sammy," he said, picturing himself wearing the holster, "when I walked it pulled just a little so that I could feel it cutting into me through my jeans." That was the right thing to say, because next minute, Sam's hand wrapped around the length of Dean's cock and started pumping both of their lengths at the same speed. Neither of them were going to last at this rate, but it had been a long time and Dean couldn't bring himself to care, especially when Sam started to suck a bruise onto his thigh.

"Did it," Sam panted, his breath coming faster and faster with every stroke, "did it leave a mark?"

"Ngh, yeah it left a mark," he panted, the pressure building as Sam pumped them both even faster, "two red stripes from the straps, and," he slid his hands into his brother's hair, only to have Sam shake them off as he launched himself into the car to straddle Dean. "Damn it Sam," he cursed as his cock was left feeling cold and bereft now his brother's hand wasn't there. He tried to reach down to take himself in hand but couldn't get passed Sam's spread thighs where they were tucked around Dean.

"And _what_?" Sam almost whined as he gripped his cock tighter and tugged harder, "close Dean, so fucking close…"

"Open your eyes, Sam" Dean commanded and waited until his brother did as he was told, "_and_ the buckles left an imprint that would take hours to fade. They'd be there, rubbing against my jeans and I could feel it like I was still wearing it. Just like when you feel as if my cock is still buried in your ass hours after we've fucked."

That was it, Sam stiffened and let out a strangled cry as he came all over Dean's stomach, hip and thigh, roughly pulling every last drop out of himself. He whimpered as he brushed the head of his cock through the wet mess and dragged it over the path his lips and tongue had taken, smearing it over the bruises that were already forming on Dean's skin.

Watching Sam come was always a glorious sight, but right now all Dean could focus on was needing to come himself. He'd been on the edge when Sam had moved and now he was so hard it hurt. As if reading Dean's mind, Sam leaned forward and kissed him quickly before pulling back and sinking to his knees again. He held the base of Dean's cock with his come covered hand before sinking his mouth down all the way, setting a fast rhythm and sucking hard as Dean bucked underneath him.

Dean gripped Sam's hair again and this time Sam allowed it, sucking even harder and pushing his fingers into the bruise on his brother's thigh. The sharp spike of pain combined with Sam's glorious mouth sent Dean over the edge, grunting loudly and pumping deep into his brother's throat.

They somehow managed to both fit onto the back seat together as they caught their breath. It was tempting just to fall asleep where they were, but by wordless agreement, they cleaned up and got dressed. Dean pulled the Impala back onto the road so they could find a motel and seconds later he felt Sam's hand settle on his thigh again. He covered it with his own and left it there until driving one handed became impossible.

_One week later_

They hadn't spoken about what happened in the car at all, but Dean couldn't get it out of his mind. If Sam had been so turned on by the mere _thought_ of his brother in a thigh holster, what would his reaction be if Dean was to, for example, be waiting for him in their motel room wearing a holster…naked, except for said holster?

Sam was due back any minute, so Dean figured he wouldn't have to wait long to find out.

~ ~ ~ THE END ~ ~ ~


End file.
